Rule No 1
by Jigglypuff70
Summary: Riddick's thoughts on his relationship with JackKyra and the events leading up to her death.
1. Rule No 1

A/N: I thought after writing a few poems and fanfics I would get this whole Riddick thing out of my system - I was wrong.

Plz R&R

Disclaimer: Yada yada yada **characters** yada yada yada **copyrighted** yada yada yada **USA Films** yada yada yada.

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There are a number of rules I live by—show no fear, show no weakness, feel no pain, kill or be killed, survive at all costs, look out for number one, sleep with one eye open, never let your guard down, never stay in one place too long, and Rule No. 1…**_never let anyone in. _**

Five years ago, those were simple rules to live by.

Five years ago, I met Jack.

Five years ago, I broke Rule No 1.

Five years ago…

…seems like only yesterday…

…seems like a lifetime.

She was just a kid then—a tall and lanky 13-year old girl masquerading as a boy. I understood her need for the disguise; the galaxy was no place for a young girl to be traveling alone. Incognito was her safest bet. Her reasons for running away were anybody's guess—although, I had an idea. Even before I got a good look at her, I knew she was a girl—I could smell her. Had circumstances been different, I would have let her keep her secret.

When she turned up under that tarp with a shaved head and makeshift goggles, I had to smile—inside. I would never let it show that her imitation had pleased me, but it had. Me? A subject of hero-worship? Who would have thought? Looking back, I would have to say it was that small display of adoration that endeared her to me, and it was at that moment that I broke Rule No. 1.

Despite the fact that she had managed to worm her way into my heart, I was willing to let her die on that planet. Rule No. 1 was broken, but that didn't mean all of the others fell by the wayside. Survival of the fittest was my motto, and Carolyn, Jack, and Imam were weak. Or so I thought.

I broke Rule No. 1 for Jack, but I broke others for Carolyn. Carolyn had a strong survival instinct, which I admired, but I found her willingness to sacrifice her own life for the life of the kid and the Holy man intriguing. As a result, I broke the "look out for number one" and "survive at all costs" rules. She died saving my life. It was her sacrifice that brought me back to humanity, but it was my concern for Jack that turned me away from it.


	2. No Regrets

No Regrets

Before she died, Carolyn said there had to be a part of me that wanted to rejoin the human race. I told her I wouldn't know how. The fact was, even if I had known how, I wouldn't have been able to—not with mercs on my neck. At the time, I thought there always would be.

With that ever-present monkey on my back, there was no way I could stay on New Mecca with Jack and Imam, and the planet's brightness aside, I had nothing to offer Jack. I could teach her two things—how to kill and how to survive. She could never have a normal childhood with me around, and life on the run was no way to live. I cared enough about her that I didn't want her to become what I had become—a killer. The only way to keep her safe was to leave her with Imam, go into exile, and get as far away from humanity as possible.

I knew she would hate me for leaving; she would think I had abandoned her and she would hate me for it. Better that, than losing her to a merc's stray bullet. I knew she wouldn't understand that my leaving was in her best interest, but it was up to me to make the right decision. So I did—I left. In the middle of the night. Without saying a word.

No regrets—another of my many rules to live by, and another rule broken. I had made some pretty difficult decisions in my life, and I'd done whatever needed to be done to survive, but leaving her—the one person I had ever cared about—was, by far, the hardest thing I had ever done. Killing was easy. Caring was a bitch. Regret was a 6-inch blade piercing my heart.

I spent the better part of five years on a frostbitten heap of a planet trying to keep Jack safe, and for what? She signed up with the same fake badges that wanted to cut her up and use her for bait, and she'd become exactly what I was trying to protect her from—me. She had followed in my footsteps and became a killer, landing herself a nice little life-sentence in one of only three no-daylight slams left, Crematoria.

Well, there was no way in hell I was going to let her rot in that hell-hole. Fortunately, Toombs played right into my hand by taking me there.


	3. We Meet Again

It had been five years since I left Jack on New Mecca with the Holy Man. She was no longer the tall and lanky 13 year old girl I remembered—she had grown up.

When I first caught a glimpse of her, she was coiling a length of chain that she had used as a whip on one of my would-be attackers. I could have dispatched him easily enough, which she knew, but she wanted to make an impression, which she had.

She stood on a rock ledge covered in grime with her hair hanging in damp curls around her face. There was something very different about her, almost feral. She had changed, and I could sense somethingthat I had never noticed before—her primitive side, her animal side. I was drawn to it. No, I was drawn to her. She was lethal, she was all woman, and she was beautiful.

I was glad to see her, but never having been one to let my emotions show, I kept my face expressionless—a talent she had yet to develop. I knew from the look in her eyes that she hadn't forgiven me for leaving her. No matter—I did what I thought was best for everyone involved—especially her.

I broke eye contact with her when I heard the voice of one of the inmates. When I looked back, I was disappointed to find that she had disappeared between the rock walls. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before we met again—she was the reason I was on Crematoria, and there was no way I was leaving without her this time.

Our meeting happened much sooner than I had expected, and I was amused at her attempt to sneak up on me. Despite her apparent stealth and agility, she had a long way to go before she could get the drop on me. Besides, even if I hadn't heard her drop to the ground behind me or heard her barely audible footfall, I could sense her, and in spite of the sulfurous stench of the place, I could smell her.

She was definitely angry with me for leaving, and even if I had mistaken her glare from the rock ledge, there was no mistaking the bite of the sharp object pressed into my back. Yep, she was still pissed. What's the saying? Hell hath no fury…

I wasn't surprised by her weapon of choice, although in a slam you don't have much choice. If she was anything like me, and she was, she would appreciate the proximity to the victim that a knife necessitates. Killing your enemy with a knife is much more personal—much more satisfying.

I was willing to humor her for only so long before I let her know who was really in command of the situation. In a flash, I whipped around, caught her upper arm, spun her around and slammed her into the bars of the cell. As I caught her hands in a vice grip above her head, I pressed the length of my body against hers.

Nothing had ever felt so right.


End file.
